


what you couldn't do i will

by KunessiPhany



Series: for blue skies [1]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Copa America 2019, Crismes (mentioned), Football, Heavy Angst, M/M, World Cup, kunessi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 10:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KunessiPhany/pseuds/KunessiPhany
Summary: "We're never gonna get to be together in every sense of the word, are we? We're always going to have to hide what we are… who we are…"Leo knew it was impossible, it was a life not meant for them.They were destined for greatness, worldwide superstars in a sport that idolized them and judged them just as profoundly."No, Kun," Leo murmured, holding onto his hand a little tighter, holding onto him. "We're not that lucky.""Yeah," Kun sighed.Leo didn't know his words were to be the catalyst of their demise.





	what you couldn't do i will

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [By the Rio de la Plata I sat down and wept](https://archiveofourown.org/works/467665) by [whimsicule](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicule/pseuds/whimsicule). 



> Hi, guys! So this is my first football fanfic and it obviously had to be my otp. It's a three-part series I'm planning. This is the first part, followed by Sergio's perspective, and ending with the epilogue. Lemme know if you guys are interested!  
> Inspired by the song For Blue Skies by Strays Don't Sleep. Lyrics belong to the song.  
> Any translations needed at the end of the work  
> I am so sorry for this lol  
> Dedicated to Xime for getting me off my ass for this lol

**.**

**iii**

**.**

 

They were standing together on the balcony of their shared hotel room when it happened.

Their eliminatory match against Uruguay was the next day, and Lionel couldn't get to sleep quite as easily as he usually did. Thus, the reason he was standing on the balcony with Sergio at his side, staring up at the stars from Montevideo like they never did.

Sergio had been pretty quiet most of the afternoon, something that was unusual for him. After all, Kun had won Leo over when they were teenagers with his incessant chatter and unfailing determination to simultaneously break through his barriers and drag him kicking and screaming from his shell.

"Are you okay?" Leo finally asked, turning to look at his profile. Sergio continued to look up at the sky without acknowledging his words, the twitching of the corner of his lip the only indication that he'd been heard.

With a minute sigh that Leo would have missed had he not been scrutinizing Kun, the younger turned to look at him and smiled. That would have reassured the La Liga player if he not known Kun as long as he had. His smile was forced, tinged with a bittersweet sadness Leo had rarely ever seen in him, and his dark eyes looked weary.

"I'm fine, Leo," he responded. Leo hesitated for a moment before lightly placing his hand around Sergio's forearm, sliding down until he held his wrist between his fingers. Leo didn't know whether Sergio wished for comfort or space at the time, but Kun's smile widened at his touch, tinting with genuineness this time. "I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

Kun turned back to the midnight blue sky, spotted with sparkling stars, and let Leo's hand slide from his wrist. Messi thought he wanted to be let go, trailing his fingers lightly down the tanned skin, but Kun took Leo's hand in his own. Their fingers intertwined together of their own accord.

"It's always going to be like this, isn't it?" Kun said quietly. "This is all we're ever gonna have, a few days together hidden from the world? We're never gonna get to be together in every sense of the word, are we? We're always going to have to hide what we are…  _ who _ we are…"

Leo's mouth opened in surprise, ready to refute his best friend's words but unable to find the words to reply because maybe he was right. No matter how much Leo wished to appease Kun and his worries over their future, maybe it was time he came to terms with the fact that their lives had been so for the past ten years and would probably continue to be so for the rest of their lives. 

Where Leo had already known that coming into the relationship, Kun had always had that dash of hope in him. Messi knew that Kun had that flicker when times were tough that would swell into a bright flame when they were together, that someday they would get to wake up together every day, spend their days playing football and go out to have dinner on their anniversary, holding hands as they walked down the street.

Leo knew it was impossible, it was a life not meant for them.

They were destined for greatness, worldwide superstars in a sport that idolized them and judged them just as profoundly.

Leo took a moment to think over his response, knowing what he said next would mark Kun, as he stared at the sky briefly. He turned back to Kun.

"No, Kun," Leo murmured, holding onto his hand a little tighter, holding onto him. "We're not that lucky."

He saw the expression on Kun's face because he could never hide from Leo, would never dare lie to the love of his life. Leo saw the initial hurt, the throbbing pain of his heart breaking and his dreams being crushed right before their eyes, in the slight furrow of his brows and the way he swallowed with difficulty.

Kun was still staring at the moon, his face tilted back, as he closed his eyes. He looked so  _ devastated _ for a brief moment that Leo wished he could take his words back. But maybe Kun needed to hear it from him…

Kun remained with his eyes closed as his face cleared of emotions, a blank slate taking over his expressions. His hand became limp in Leo's as he opened his eyes.

"Yeah," Kun sighed. He slipped his hand from Lionel's as he turned and walked back into the room, leaving the Rosarino standing alone.

 

**.**

**(i'm under that night, i'm under those same stars)**

**.**

 

Lionel Messi stood underneath the starry night sky of Buenos Aires, staring at the shadowed moon with a lump in his throat. A fresh breeze blew over him on the balcony of his hotel room, remembering with startling clarity the last eliminatory match against Uruguay four years earlier. The only difference was that, this time, Argentina were the locals and Sergio Agüero no longer stood beside him.

He was long gone, had probably long-ago given up on the national team, though the pain of his absence never really went away.

It was just something he learned to live with.

Watching the stars was something that had become so important to Leo since that day, hoping Kun knew how he felt and that he thought of him nonstop. He hoped he knew that he regretted everything, but he'd learned to live with his decisions.

He hoped the stars could let Kun know how much Leo missed him.

Because that 30th of August that he denied Kun changed everything.

Leo had told him what he believed to be the truth in that moment, unknowing how to or unwilling to change their lives from what they were then. Now he knew better, but in that moment, Leo didn't know his words were to be the catalyst of their demise.

 

**.**

**ii**

**.**

 

That night marked the beginning of the end for Leo.

He didn't know it then, but nothing would ever be the same for them after that. He didn't know it then, but they both gave up on each other in their own way that night.

When Leo walked back into the bedroom, Kun was already lying on his own bed on the side closest to the wall, the television on but on mute as was custom for them. Smiling slightly at the thought, the older Argentine took the control remote and hesitated for a moment. He didn't know whether he should lay with Kun as they were used to doing when they roomed together because of Kun's strange behavior.

Something told him the Manchester City player wasn't too happy with him, but Leo decided to risk it. He lay down on the other side of the bed, placing the remote on the nightstand beside him to turn the television off once Kun fell asleep.

Kun didn't acknowledge his presence, until Leo curled his slightly smaller frame around his. Sergio's hand wrapped around his boyfriend's where it was on his abdomen, tugging him slightly closer.

 

**.**

 

The match against Uruguay was a draw, 0-0.

Everybody on the national team was disheartened, but everyone knew Messi especially hated to lose so no one even tried to approach him for a while.

The surprise was Sergio Agüero's surly expression, the glower on his face anytime anyone tried to come near him or speak to him. Everyone knew, though, that it wasn't just the match that got to Kun because he had been more quiet lately. It wasn't hard to notice his silence given that the team was used to his easy smiles, his bright eyes, his boisterous laughter, his stupid jokes, his random desire to dance in the locker room, his encouraging words when things didn't quite go their way.

Everyone merely assumed he and Leo had gotten into some argument, as they seemed to be avoiding one another the whole day.

Everyone on the Argentine national team knew about their relationship and then some, the same way everyone knew about Sergio Ramos and Iker Casillas's eternal love and Cristiano Ronaldo's less than innocent relationship with James Rodriguez. In the way that no one really spoke about it, accepted it as it was and loved their friends as they were.

After a while of the two strikers' sulking, Javier Mascherano strode over to a freshly-showered Kun and sat beside him on the bench. Kun didn't acknowledge the older man, merely continued to stare at the floor in front of him.

"What's wrong, Kun?" Masche asked after a few moments of silence.

Kun shook his head lightly and glanced at him.

"Nothing, Javi, I'm fine," he said, before standing with the towel still wrapped tightly around his hips. Leo was watching them subtly from his place at his locker, studying this unknown Kun who had replaced his eternally-happy boyfriend.

"Something's bothering you," Javier insisted, turning to look back at Kun as he opened his locker. Sergio didn't reply as he took his clothes out and laid them on the bench.

"Everything is fine, Masche."

He proceeded to slip his black trunks on under the towel before removing it to slip his blue jeans on. He usually never bothered, but he wasn't behaving as he usually did, after all. 

"Is it Leo?" Javier murmured, watching as Kun's hands faltered on the button of his jeans. The Premier League player didn't say anything, zipping his jeans and slipping the plain white t-shirt on. He sat next to Masche on the other side of the bench to put his socks on. "Kun."

"Drop it, Javier," Kun ground out, busy with his Nike sneakers. 

"Kun, it's not like you to—"

"So what?" Sergio cut him off as he stood up, his sneakers laced up. He began to throw everything in his locker into his Nike gym bag haphazardly, eager to get out of there. "Just because I'm always happy, I don't get to have an off day? I don't get to be anything other than happy because it makes you uncomfortable?"

Everyone around them continued with their own business, slipping clothes on or spraying on deodorant or chatting lightly with the players around them. Everyone feigned ignorance as they listened to the European league players' discussion without turning to look at them.

"I care about you."

Kun zipped his bag shut and sighed, hanging his head.

"I'm  _ fine _ , Masche," he repeated, hefting the bag on his shoulder. "Seriously. I'll wait on the bus."

And he left the locker room without looking back, without even glancing at Lionel. Javier stood, realizing Kun never once looked him in the eye, didn't even raise his head.

 

**.**

**(do you ever get homesick? i can't get used to it)**

**.**

 

Leo lay on the bed in his single hotel room and stared at the TV without really seeing anything, a football game on mute. It had become a habit of his, ironic since he tried to grill the habit out of Kun for so many years.

Messi wondered in the silence of the room what would have happened if he had given into Kun that night, just like he always did for the past year of his life. He knew it wouldn't have been easy.

But he figured it would have been easier than the shadow living by his side, the ghost of his failures breathing down his neck, the silhouette of a bright-eyed man broken by his hand lingering at the corner of his eyes.

 

**.**

 

Kun began to distance himself from Leo slowly, avoiding him in public and spending as much time with the rest of his teammates as possible to not see Leo in their bedroom. It was a kind of psychological torture for Messi, unknowing of what had happened to make Sergio react as such. They'd been together for so long, but the only time Kun had given him the cold shoulder as such was with the announcement of Antonella's first pregnancy.

They spent time together, sure, but it just seemed that being with Leo as much as possible was no longer his priority. And that caused an incredible amount of tension.

Kun no longer partnered up with Leo for training, choosing to stretch with the help of Nicolás Otamendi, his fellow Man City teammate, or Eduardo "Toto" Salvio. Leo was left to spend training with either Angel Di María, Gonzalo "Pipa" Higuaín or Paulo Dybala.

Everyone on the team was overly aware of the situation between the two, but nobody knew what to make of it. They all witnessed firsthand Sergio's reaction to Mascherano trying to intervene— surprising in itself, given that Masche was one of his closest friends— and they all knew Leo was even far more reserved. The team was merely crossing their fingers that the two would resolve their issues soon, but things just seemed to get worse.

Granted, their situation never affected the players or their manner of playing on the pitch, but it wasn't about that. Most of the members on the team, like Masche and Angel and Pipita, had borne witness to the development of their relationship. They had been present through countless arguments; through wins, losses, and draws that either brought them closer or tore them apart; through their initial denial of their feelings for each other. They merely wanted to see their friends happier, because no one could deny that was when they seemed the happiest.

Together.

Now, Leo just looked miserable and Kun, torn.

 

**.**

**iv**

**.**

 

It all came to a head on the 10th of october, the night of Argentina's match against Ecuador. It was their first win and the qualification to the World Cup, Leo scoring a hat-trick against Romario Ibarra's one goal. 

Sergio had had a car accident in Holland two weeks earlier but had escaped with a few bruises and minor cuts. However, as a precaution— as Sampaoli had said—, he wasn't in the starting lineup, instead sitting at the bench as a sub. He wasn't called onto the pitch, though, and merely celebrated Leo's three goals from his spot beside Dybala.

The team celebrated at the hotel, sneaking in bottles of whiskey and champagne and even, for some reason, tequila. They would surely be in big trouble (that's a lie) if they were caught, but Kun and Toto charmed one of the concierges into giving them the key to one of the special events venues.

The booze flowed freely, the music played lightly, and the room service people allowed them to break their diet. Just for tonight.

Kun was happy, genuinely happy and giddy on a bit of alcohol. He was hugging Mascherano's waist and bouncing on his toes, kissing Otamendi on the cheek and congratulating his assist to Messi's last goal, wrapping his arms around Toto's shoulders and singing along to whatever reggaeton song was playing.

But he didn't approach Lionel.

Leo watched him from afar, sipping on his second bottle of beer for the night. He saw how happy Kun looked and realized with a start that he  _ missed _ him. It was paradoxical, as he spent so much time with Sergio, but Kun was never really there. Not with him, at least. Not anymore.

Lionel sighed and decided it was time to go. He was happy for the win, obviously, but he was also stressed out about the situation with Kun and tired from the match. God, he'd been worried out of his mind when he first heard about Sergio's car accident, worried that it'd been serious and that he wouldn't get to play with the team for a long time.

But Kun didn't seem to care.

It was weird missing Kun in that sense of  _ he's here but not with me _ . Although Leo had been hesitant about his feelings for his best friend at first, he'd always,  _ always _ had Sergio's undying devotion.

Now, it just… wasn't anymore.

Kun entered their shared hotel room about a half hour later. He wasn't drunk, Leo could tell, just buzzed.

Sergio sighed happily as he made his way toward his bed, unbuttoning his jeans and beginning to pull them down as he walked. Leo watched on in amusement as Kun stumbled, fell face-first on the mattress, and groaned as he kicked his jeans off.

Jumping up suddenly, he threw his black v-neck off and made his way toward Leo, who was sitting up on his own bed. They had stopped sharing a bed weeks ago.

Lionel watched wearily as Kun made his way toward him, sitting on the small space Leo had left on the edge of the bed.

"Congratulations on your hat-trick," Kun murmured, lopsided smile genuine and sweet and bright and so  _ Kun _ , it made Leo ache for him suddenly. Kun wrapped his arms around Leo's shoulders, their bare chests meeting and making a sudden lump form in the eldest's throat.

Kun pulled back to give him a noisy kiss on the cheek before removing his arms from around him, turning to stand. Leo placed a hand on his forearm, stopping him from moving away any further.

" _ That's _ how you're going to congratulate me?" Leo smirked, his tone light and teasing. Kun's demeanor changed immediately, his posture becoming uncomfortable and his eyes serious and looking for a way out. Leo was taken aback and quickly removed his hand because  _ what the hell _ ? "Kun?"

Sergio gulped, standing from Leo's bed and taking a seat on the edge of his own. Messi could see that his hands were trembling.

"Ku—"

"I'm sorry," Kun cut him off, covering his face with his hands. Leo immediately stood up from the bed and made his way toward his boyfriend. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Kun, what's wron—"

Kun took a deep, fortifying breath and said it.

"I don't wanna be with you anymore."

There was silence and Leo stopped where he stood in front of Kun, bringing his hands that had been reaching out to him back to his sides, dumbfounded.

"Wh— What?" 

Leo took a step back, shock slowing his movements down, making everything around him seem to move in slow-motion.

"I'm sorry," Kun whispered, voice sounding strangled. "I'm sorry but—"

"Why?" Leo demanded, his brain beginning to work at a normal speed again, allowing him to regain his footing. "Why would you say that?"

Kun hesitated as he lifted his head from his hands, turning to look up at him but unable to look him in the eye.

"Wh—"

"Because I want  _ more _ , Leo," Kun murmured, interrupting Leo's insistence. He sounded miserable. "This isn't easy for me. You're the love of my life. But you're content with what we have, and I'm not."

Anger clouded Leo's mind for a moment so much, he found himself unable to voice his thoughts. Leo had essentially given his back on his marriage to be with Kun and now it turned out that that wasn't enough? 

"I— I have given you everything, Kun. Is that not enough? What more could you—"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Sergio stated levelly, standing up as well. "I love you  _ so _ much, you have no idea. But I don't want the rest of my life to be like this. I don't want to see you only at international break, or only during international games while we're still footballers. I don't want to have a few days with you when you sneak over to Manchester. I don't want to have a few nights in a hotel when  _ I _ sneak over to Barcelona. I just want to be with you how it should be."

Kun looked to be on the verge of tears, his voice desperate and his face filled with despair. Leo's heart broke a little, before he realized Kun was doing this to himself and to him.

"I gave up on my marriage for you, Kun—"

"Don't come at me with that bullshit," Kun snarled suddenly, looking angry enough to punch him. He looked like he was thinking about it, too, before he walked past Leo, their shoulders knocking roughly. "I divorced Giannina for you, and you've never heard me throw that shit in your face."

It was the truth. Sergio had ended up divorcing the mother of his only son because he wanted to be with Leo properly, or as properly as he could, and he knew it wasn't fair to Giannina to go behind her back like that. Unfortunately, Leo had no such notions and although Antonella knew about them, Leo continued to live with her for appearance's sake— or so he claimed.

Leo found himself at a loss for words for a moment before he turned to look at Sergio, who was pacing behind him.

"I love you, Leo, you kno—"

"Is there somebody else?" Leo's voice was cold as ice as the question left his lips. Kun stopped his pacing, turning to stare at Messi with the most incredulous glare he could manage.

"Are you even listening to me, Leo?" he cried, throwing his hands in the air. "There is no one else! It's just that…"

Sergio stopped to take a long, deep breath and closed his eyes to calm himself down. Leo continued to eye him in silence, unsure of what he was feeling and what he should say.

"I don't want to fight with you," Kun finally stated, opening his big suit-button eyes. "This is hard enough as it is. First and foremost, Leo, you're my best friend. I will always be by your side, whether you are with me, with Anto or with Neymar. That will never change."

Leo was gearing up to deny  _ something _ , but Kun merely held his hand up to shut him up.

"But I also know that if we are in a relationship, I want to be more than your eternal fuck-buddy. I'm not asking for a fairy tale ending or for you to declare your love for me to the four winds, and I know it would not be easy but we could make it. I  _ know _ we could make it, but I also know you're  _ not _ willing to try."

Leo swallowed painfully, remembering the night spent staring up at the stars in Montevideo. He couldn't deny that, couldn't deny that he'd essentially told Kun that no, his hopes for a future beside Leo were not happening.

"I want that, Leo," Kun muttered, lowering his head. That made Messi feel guilty because Sergio Agüero _never_ bowed his head. "I'm sorry."

Leo stood in silence as Kun walked over to his suitcase and grabbed the football shorts on top. He slipped them on, as well as the t-shirt he'd worn earlier, and made his way toward the door.

"I'll leave you alone for tonight," Sergio said, his hand on the doorknob. He opened the door and hesitated for a moment. "Remember, you're my best friend. I love you. Don't ever forget that."

He left.

But he'd come back. Leo was sure of it. They'd been together for a decade. Kun couldn't just walk away from years of struggling to be together, even though in all the arguments over the years, they'd never really broken up.

But Kun would come back.

They loved each other, after all, and that was enough.

 

**.**

**(could i have saved you? would that've betrayed you?)**

**.**

 

They didn't get back together.

Especially after the announcement of Antonella's third pregnancy, though Kun did send her a "Congratulations!" through Instagram.

During their break, there was absolute silence from one to the other, though Kun took the time to FaceTime Antonella and wish Thiago a happy birthday in November. He had also sent his "nephew" a gift, but the two Argentines didn't even bother to wish each other a merry Christmas or a happy New Year's. Both were too hurt still.

Leo called Giannina directly to wish his godson a happy birthday in February, no one bothering to let Kun know Messi had talked to his son. March arrived and with it, the birth of Ciro Messi. Sergio Agüero didn't call, and Antonella couldn't help the wave of disappointment that washed over her as she lay on the hospital bed with her newborn son in arms.

She knew he and Leo were going through a rough time, and she understood Kun's need to put some distance between them. She knew the relationship between her and Kun was confusing at best and fucked up at worst. He used to FaceTime Leo at least three times a week to talk to them both and see the younger Messis, and now he only called once a week while Leo was at training just to see Thiago and Mati.

Antonella steeled her resolve and took the iPhone on the bed in her hand. She called  _ Kun _ . The window of the video chat opened up, revealing a freshly-showered Sergio sitting on his couch. His brow was furrowed, but his expression gentled when he caught sight of the newborn baby nestled against her bosom.

"Meet your new nephew,  _ Tio Kun _ ," Anto whispered, her voice hoarse with the sudden emotion welling in her throat. Kun smiled slowly, eyes brightening for the first time in so long.

Things didn't change after that, though.

When Argentina's match against Spain came up mid-March, the two continued to room together because that was the way their trainers had always done it. They didn't want to bring attention to themselves by asking for a change in rooming plans. Nonetheless, the shift in their relationship was obvious to everyone, in the way they avoided each other, in the way they gazed at one another across the field when the other wasn't looking, in the raw longing on their faces when the other laughed or smiled at the dinner table. Though the two had continued with their friendly charade in front of the cameras and fans for their match against Italy days before, everything was different.

Nobody dared get involved, though Angel could be found staring at one or the other forlornly. Mascherano could be found shaking his head subtly at Leo or observing Kun in silence. Nobody knew what had happened, all they knew was that it was such a damn shame.

In their room, they rarely spoke. They were awkward around each other, avoiding bumping into each other or even looking at one another. Kun no longer left the television on all night, and Leo no longer turned on his side to stare at Kun's form across from him.

Messi eventually told his childhood friend Gerard Piqué what had happened after their match against Spain in Madrid. The Spaniard had been nothing but supportive, telling him the same thing as Kun. They had been best friends for twelve years, ten of those years spent together, and they would get through it. Things might never be the same way they were before that moment, but they would be okay.

Leo hung onto that sliver of hope, through the resounding silence and darkness in their room, through the downcast gazes, through the goals in training they didn't celebrate together. He kept his distance, respecting Kun's decision in hopes that he would come through someday.

Messi really began to believe things would get better when their friendly against Haiti came up two months later. Sergio was subbed in for Pipita ten minutes before Leo scored his sixth hat-trick for Argentina. The third goal was celebrated with a group hug between the two of them, Cris Pavon, and Marcos Rojo. Though Kun wasn't looking at him, he was right in front of Leo and when he finally turned, his face split into a smile.

It was a  _ Leo smile _ , the grin that was bright and genuine and sweetly suggestive and reserved  _ for him _ and hadn't been directed at him for months and months. Leo felt himself returning the grin with a smirk of his own, his heart pounding in his chest when Kun winked at him.

When Kun departed from the group hug, Leo was all-out grinning.

 

**.**

 

The Argentine team flew to Barcelona after that, and under any other circumstances, Kun's stay at Messi's house would have been implied. Which was why the directives for the national team didn't actually reserve a room for Sergio at the hotel where the entire team except for Messi— as it was his town of residence— would be staying.

Leo was a lot surprised to open the door to his house the night of their arrival to find Kun on the doorstep with his suitcase in hand. His platinum-dyed head was bowed and Messi could only imagine how big the blow to his pride must have been to stand before him after everything said and done. 

Kun raised his head, but nobody said a word. The two ex-lovers merely continued to stare at each other in silence, one unbelieving and the other uncomfortable.  Messi's eyes scanned the wide, brown eyes that looked so tired, the tension settled at the corners of his mouth.

"Leo, who is it?" Anto's voice yelled. Leo startled, yet Kun remained impassive.

"I wasn't— I mean, I—" he stammered for a moment before closing his eyes briefly to gather himself. "The directives didn't reserve a room for me because they figured I would be staying with you."

Both remained unmoving.

"I can stay at—"

"No, no, come in," Leo cut him off before Kun could even finish his suggestion. Kun took his suitcase and walked forward, hesitating as he passed next to Leo, glancing at him. "You know this is your home."

Kun's tense expression softened as they stood next to one another, staring at each other as though they were seeing one another for the first time in years. It was a different kind of epiphany, one they had at the same time as they realized they would never quite be rid of each other, that they would always love each other no matter what they did to one another.

Kun shook his head subtly before he continued to make his way inside the brightly-lit hallway. Leo turned to close the door, almost crashing into Kun when he tried to walk into the house. He was frozen a couple steps from the door, staring at Antonella carrying baby Ciro at the entrance to the kitchen.

It was the first time Sergio was seeing the two-and-a-half-month-old Messi in person.

Kun left the suitcase where it stood, walking slowly, as if in a trance, toward Anto and the newest addition to the Messi family. Leo remained where he was, feeling his throat close up and his eyes well with tears.

"Can I hold him?" Sergio whispered when he stood before her. Anto smiled gently, her own eyes glistening, and nodded. Kun took the ever-watchful baby in his arms, familiar with the action after years of carrying Benja, Thiago and Mateo at the age of mere days. Antonella would later tell Leo about the teardrop that fell on Ciro's navy blue blanket as Kun cooed softly.

The moment was broken when Mateo walked out of the kitchen following his mother and spotted his godfather. The two-year-old let out a delighted squeal and ran to embrace Kun's legs.

"Tio Kun!"

Mati's greeting prompted five-year-old Thiago to burst out of the kitchen in his pursuit of Kun. It was one of the most impacting moments of Lionel Messi's life, watching his two sons hug the love of his life from wherever they could reach, Thiago with a happy smile on his face, Mateo babbling away in his barely-comprehensible baby talk, and his youngest swathed in the Bonaerense's tanned arms and unconditional love.

 

**.**

 

Things were like before during Sergio's stay at his house, so much so that Lionel wanted to pinch himself to see if it was a dream. They obviously didn't sleep in the same room, but Kun started treating him as though they had never stopped speaking to each other. Leo knew it was due, in part, to his children and how Kun didn't want to taint their image of their father and his own.

But it was such a  _ relief _ to be able to talk to his best friend as such after so long, even if it was only for his stay at the Messi household.

But the talkative Kun seemed to bleed into their own time. They'd be sitting on the couch by themselves and Kun would comment about the devastating loss Man City had felt against Man United in the UCL, about how he had felt it especially hard as it had been his last match before the knee surgery. The two would be eating breakfast after Thiago left for school and the youngest were still asleep to have Sergio mention Otamendi had asked about Ciro.

The Argentines were preparing  _ mate _ in the kitchen alone after putting the kids to bed when he began telling Leo about how he celebrated his 13th hat-trick. He'd had Sterling give Sané a lap dance after City's match against Newcastle in January, the one where Kun had scored the perfect hat-trick.

His eyes were sparkling as he told the story, not even bothering to smother his laughter. Kun was sitting on a stool at his side, talking about the moment Pep walked into the locker room to find Raz twerking to Maluma's  _ GPS _ on Leroy, when he threw his head back to laugh properly. Leo, in that split-second, missed Sergio with an intensity so strong, he knew it had shown on his face when Kun went quiet.

He turned away from Leo for a moment, seemingly to gather himself, before taking a sip of  _ mate _ and smiling as though nothing had happened.

But it had.

"I missed you a lot," Messi whispered, ducking his head but continuing to look at Kun. He turned to look at the older Rosarino, his eyes hesitating on the fringe of his hair. Leo had left his hair longer, the way it had been styled during most of his 2012/2013 season, the way he knew Kun most liked it.

Kun hesitated before saying, "I did, too."

He looked nervous, though, and his suit-button eyes were refusing to look him in the eye. It made Leo a little sad that this was what their friendship had been reduced to, especially as it had been one of his biggest fears back when he was still trying to figure out his feelings for the Bonaerense.

"I still love you."

Kun ducked his head. His fingers were twitching a little on the countertop, as though he was thinking about grabbing his  _ mate _ and making a run for it.

"We're okay, though," he sighed, finally raising his head to glance at Leo and looking a lot calmer. Messi, on the other hand, couldn't help the frown that appeared on his face, his expression conveying all the incredulity he felt at Kun's words.

"No, we're not!" he exclaimed, the disbelief in his voice the only thing making him sound not like a petulant child but indignant instead. "Kun, we haven't talked in so long. We're not okay!"

Sergio couldn't repress a smile at Leo's words, but it was an odd combination of bittersweetness and amusement and nostalgia. It was the most melancholic Messi had seen him look since the night of Montevideo.

"No, but we're getting there," he responded. It wasn't what Leo wanted to hear.

"No! I don't want to get there!" he snapped, smacking his hand on the countertop. Kun startled a bit at the action, his dark eyes widening in surprise. "I want to go back to how we were! I want to talk to you when I'm feeling sad, when I'm bored, when I'm happy, when I miss you! I want to touch you when I want to, when I see you, when I feel like the world is caving in on me! I want to kiss you when you smile and tell you I love you! I want you, I want  _ us _ , like we were before!"

Sergio looked completely dumbfounded at Leo's sudden confessional rant. He continued to stare at Messi with wide eyes, seemingly unable to process all that he'd just been told, before he stood from the stool. He turned away from Leo as he paced.

"We don't want the same things, Leo," Kun stated as he stopped. He'd apparently been thinking about how to phrase his words, but Leo frankly didn't give a damn.

"Well, things change," Leo retorted, standing from his own stool and slowly making his way around the countertop. "People change."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kun demanded, beginning to look more and more frustrated. Anxiousness was taking over his features as he ran a hand over his face. Leo gentled his expression as he walked closer to the Premier League player.

"What if I want the same things as you?" Leo replied, standing right in front of Kun and staring into his eyes, made a lot easier by the fact that they were the same height. Kun's eyes were searching his, but Leo remained steadfast in his proclamation. He'd been thinking about it a lot. "What if I said I want to be with you, whatever it takes?"

Kun took a sharp breath, the noise sounding somehow startled. Still staring into Messi's eyes, he took a step back, then another.

"You've said that before."

He turned away with his head bowed, likely to walk out of the kitchen. Sergio froze at Lionel's words, though.

"What do I have to do?"

Kun turned to stare at Leo with a calculating gaze, his head still bowed, before a familiar smirk began to give way on his face. 

"Prove it."

Kun walked out, leaving Leo smiling to himself in the kitchen.

 

**.**

**i**

**.**

 

"I'm glad you two are finally getting your heads out of your asses," Mascherano said, nudging Leo lightly with his elbow as he slipped his socks on. "But I think you really need to take it slow."

The confusion must have been evident on his face because Javier sighed as though he were being purposefully dense. Leo maybe understood what Masche was trying to say, but it didn't mean a larger part of him didn't want to disregard his advice and jump back into his relationship with Kun.

"I've seen you with him," Masche said, leaning down in his seat to tie his laces. "You need to learn to be yourself around him again. It's not the same awkwardness from when you broke up, but there's still a lot of hesitance to your words and actions."

Messi had almost forgotten how observant the older Argentine could be. 

"He's just like you, too, you know," Javi continued. "I mean, you can still tell he loves you as much as he did back then, the way he stares after you, but it's almost like he's afraid. Of what, I don't know, but the fact remains."

But Leo knew. He was afraid to have to walk away again, or to have Leo change his mind. To break both their hearts, just the same way Messi feared those things.

 

**.**

 

That year passed by in a blur. It was almost like the FIFA World Youth Championship in 2005 where they first met, when they were learning how to live with each other by being inseparable. Or more like the 2008 Beijing Olympics, where they already knew each other's quirks, where they already knew they wanted to be together, when they had their feelings figured out and were just letting things fall into place.

Their new relationship had a feeling reminiscent of the 2014 World Cup, back when most of the squad were practically family thanks to the previous World Cup and Copa America. Back when Eze Garay and Pipita were as inseparable as Leo and Kun, and Pablo Zabaleta used to spend his time running after the four of them to keep them out of trouble. Back when Maxi Rodriguez and Fernando Gago would team up against Marcos Rojo and Enzo Perez in their prank wars only to end up pranking Sergio Romero, and Ezequiel "Pocho" Lavezzi would have to act like the responsible one.

Back when the thirteen of them— Kun, Leo, Pipa, Eze, Masche, Pocho, Zaba, Ota, Maxi, Gago, Marcos, Enzo and Chiquito— were as thick as thieves, and they were riding on cloud nine with victory after victory.

Leo and Kun's time spent together had that kind of vibe to it, that comfort that things were going back to normal and everything really  _ would _ be okay. That hope of good things on the horizon.

Until reality came crashing down on them like a bitch when they were knocked out of the Cup at last-sixteen by France.

Kun tried to comfort Leo because he knew how it was for him. Messi carried the weight of the world on his shoulders when it came to international competitions. He was expected to carry the whole team to  _ some _ trophy for their country, and it was never fair for him. He felt the loss more than any of them ever would because the criticism rained down on him singularly, whereas Masche was praised for his defense and Kun was mostly ignored.

They would all feel the loss of the 2014 WC more acutely than any other loss because they had been  _ so close _ . They had gotten to the final, only to have their dream snatched by Götze. But back then, they'd had a support system of 11 other players to fall back on more intimately, eleven other Argentines that felt the loss in their bones like they did, eleven other men that comforted one another like the family they were and could support each other through the various breakdowns.

Now, they were incomplete. Sure, they all got along with the new additions to the team but it was like having a stepbrother move into your home. It was someone who you would learn to love and care for, with time, but was essentially still a stranger. They were five brothers short, and Kun wanted to be there for Leo.

But Leo wouldn't let him. It was his loss to bear, his failure to shoulder.

_ "I  _ said  _ I want to be alone right now." _

_ "Leo, don't shut me ou—" _

_ "You don't get it! It's not your loss, Kun, not really, not like it is mine! Criticism isn't raining down on you,  _ es mas _ , you're not even mentioned! I'm supposed to be the greatest player in the world, and I can't even bring one trophy home for my country, but how can I? Because I'm sorry but Argentina is  _ not _ Barce—" _

_ "No, it's okay. You're right. You're not a one-man team. I'm glad you could get that out." _

_ "I still want to be alone, Kun." _

And that was just it, wasn't it? It wasn't the first time a loss with the national team had torn them apart, had caused them to ice the other out for a few days, maybe a week. But Leo would eventually lament his loss with Mascherano, he would cry in Geri's arms, he would rant to Cesc Fabregas and Neymar. He didn't want to be comforted by Kun so soon after, he just wanted to be alone and process the hand he'd been dealt.

Except he left Kun alone, as well, and it would come to be too late when he'd realize what he did.

 

**.**

 

Leo wouldn't know about the way Kun's night was spent that night until months later, until he recognized the distance in Sergio again and overcame it, until Sergio was no longer with him. Leo had gone to sleep alone and woken up alone, but he'd assumed the Bonaerense had left before him.

They would see each other at breakfast, but it wouldn't be until they were back in Argentina that Messi spoke to Kun in a low voice. He apologized to his best friend, the love of his life, his teammate and his partner-in-crime, for the way he behaved the night of their loss and the things he'd said. Kun had merely shrugged and accepted his apology with a grin.

"It's not like I don't know you," he dismissed. Leo would have to wait for his flight, which was due to depart in 45 minutes, to Rosario while Kun stayed in Buenos Aires with his family for most of July. "See you later,  _ boludo _ ."

Kun kissed his cheek and left the lounge where Leo was waiting, leaving the Barça player confused but content.

He didn't really notice the distance between them until much later, but he'd somehow come up with excuses for it. They no longer FaceTime'd but that was normal, both of them were busy spending time with their families in Argentina, in their hometowns. Kun had to return to Manchester in time for City's match against Bayern on the 28th, and Leo himself had to be back in Spain by the same date. They didn't see each other in Argentina again.

In fact, they didn't talk to each other at all for the first month. Both of their clubs were super busy, though, what with Man City's winning streak in August and Barcelona's majority of wins in La Liga. He still checked up on his sons with Antonella, though, so his excuses were coming to an end.

That was until Kun Agüero showed up at their doorstep on the 8th of September without any announcement whatsoever, grinning cheekily. City was getting a reprieve from so many matches, and Kun had come to visit for his godson's birthday on the 11th. He brought with him gifts for the three boys, though there was an extra for Mateo's birthday.

Kun entered, kissing Leo's cheek in greeting, as well as Antonella's, and it seemed nothing had changed between them. Kun teased Messi as usual, touched him, ruffled his hair, punched his shoulder. It gave Messi a renewed hope, but he knew he had yet to really prove he wanted to get back with Sergio.

They were sipping  _ mate _ in the kitchen alone that night when Messi realized Kun was grinning at his cell phone. He wasn't in his right to get jealous, and yet, he still did.

"Who are you talking to?" Leo dared to ask.

"This girl I met in Argentina last month," Kun replied nonchalantly, not even bothering to raise his gaze from the phone. Lionel made a noncommittal noise and continued to sip on his  _ mate _ in silence.

There was a sigh before Sergio put the phone down and turned to Leo, saying, "She's cute, but she's just eighteen. Don't worry about it."

Messi was a little startled. It wasn't like Kun to hand out that kind of information if they weren't together.

"Kun, how are—" Leo had no idea how to phrase his question, but he had to ask anyway. "How are  _ we _ ?"

Kun shrugged, his gaze on his  _ mate _ . He wasn't pouting but it looked like it was a close thing.

"Nothing has changed."

Leo's brow furrowed as he looked at his compatriot. Did that mean he still had a chance, or did that mean he had reverted to his original decision?

"What does that mean?"

Kun swallowed before turning to look at Leo. His suit-button eyes were somber, serious for a rare occasion. Leo's eyes searched his face as he waited for an answer anxiously.

"It  _ means _ ," Kun responded, "that we're okay, Leo."

Messi froze at his words, pretty sure his expression was conveying the horror he felt at Kun's reply. His heart was steadily beginning to pound faster and his hands felt numb.

"I already told you that's not what I want," he muttered, voice hoarse. He seemed unable to look away from Sergio's face, gauging every expression and minute wince.

"That's not what you've shown me" was Kun's answer, tone sounding light but at the same time, strangely cold and detached. "Hey, want to play some FIFA?"

Leo nodded after a moment, but it was just the wake-up call he needed.

 

**.**

 

Things got busier after that, but they got better between them. The group stage for the UEFA Champions' League began on the 15th of September and both Argentines were forced to stay in their respective European cities for the rest of the year.

They had regular communication now, and Kun had slipped up during the FaceTime for Thiago's birthday by calling him "love." Leo had been walking on clouds for days afterward.

October, November, December, and January passed by in a flash. They FaceTime'd during Christmas Eve to wish each other a merry Christmas, Ota and Zaba making kissy faces behind Kun as the three were spending the day together with their families. Leo himself was spending the holiday with Luis and Sofia, as well as Jordi and his family.

Leo couldn't help but chuckle, answering to the teasing goodnaturedly, "What's with all the teasing? What, are you guys  _ jealous _ now?"

Zaba made vomiting gestures on the screen, making Leo laugh harder, meanwhile Ota seemed to be thinking about it long and hard.

"While the beard  _ does _ look good on you, Pulga," Nico said, using his hands and head to gesture as he spoke, "I would most likely be jealous of  _ you _ , because Kun has the biggest eyes and pretty lips."

Leo chuckled as Kun blew Ota a kiss and batted his eyelashes playfully.

"Should I be worried, Ota?" he questioned. "Because I don't share, and Kun knows that."

Kun swiveled his head to look at him so fast, Leo feared he had heard a crack in his neck. He didn't say anything, though, choosing to stare at the Rosarino incredulously. Leo, for his part, put a challenging look onto his face, his smirk and hooded eyes conveying everything he felt he needed to as his voice lowered in pitch.

" _ O no, mi amor _ ?"

Leo could barely make out the pupil dilating against the dark brown of his eyes.

"Not in front of us, guys!" Zaba whined, but the smile on his face spoke differently. It was a smile filled with relief, with a deep affection for their relationship, with a fondness for the two little shits in the Argentine NT he had to run after way back when.

Both laughed, Kun conveying a thousand things with the gaze he gave Leo in response.

Leo and Kun remained busy enough having a great season that the distance between them wasn't felt as acutely, but it was there with every "good morning" text and every "good night" they exchanged.

It was in March when Argentina had two friendlies and Kun wasn't called up that he gave in. He was beginning to fear that Scaloni might really not call Kun up for the Copa America 2019, and he needed reassurance quickly. FaceTiming the Man City player, he settled into his bed and waited for the other to pick up. Once he did, Leo immediately went into a rant.

"I miss you! There, I finally said it!" Kun snorted at Leo's words but was ignored. "It's so  _ weird _ wearing the Argentina jersey and not having you at my side, or hell, even on the bench. I miss you so much, it's not even funny. It's been like six months since I last saw you."

Kun waited a moment for Leo to regain himself and process what he'd just been told. He ended up laughing and softening the look in his eyes.

"It's okay, Leo, the season's almost over," he said. "We'll be together then, and you can touch me whenever you want."

Leo recognized his own words from the night he finally spoke to Kun about what had happened. His mouth went dry, his mind going back to that night on the 1st of June when Sergio walked into his home and his family flocked around him, his newborn in strong arms and his older boys content with his presence.

"I'm getting divorced," he stated. Kun's expression fell.

"What?"

 

**.**

 

Sergio  _ was _ called up to the Copa America 2019, but it didn't matter anyways. The Bonaerense had flown to Barcelona as soon as he could, leaving the celebration of their FA Cup win early to be with Messi.

They weren't officially together yet, but Lionel had already filed for divorce and both had agreed to take it slow in the meanwhile. Divorces could be a tricky business but Anto had agreed to it without batting an eyelash, realizing their relationship was something out of her comprehension. Since the divorce was uncontested and Leo was Lionel Messi, the process was likely to take a few weeks instead of months.

The Argentine NT had a friendly against Nicaragua a week before their first Copa America match against Colombia, but Kun wasn't in the lineup. However, he was forced to leave Barcelona after a week spent in the Messi household playing football with Thiago, helping Mateo build Legos, practicing baby Ciro's walking, cooking with Anto, and playing FIFA with Leo.

He had his own family to visit, his own son to see and shower with love and affection, after all.

Kun spent the first two days of training without Leo, who had boarded the plane on the 27th, but would arrive late the following day. When he arrived, Leo greeted him meekly, clearly trying not to make a big deal out of it, but Kun was sure everyone on the team could deduce they were back together from the way Messi refused to be separated from him.

Leo Messi, weirdly enough to the rest of the world that didn't know them but was quick to judge, uploaded a private picture on Instagram for Kun's 31st birthday. It was a photo Anto had taken of them from behind as they sat side-by-side on the couch playing a game of FIFA, Kun wearing his Barça jersey and Leo donning the Man City #10, with the caption:  _ Años jugando FIFA contigo y aun no podes ganar  _ 👀😂  _ Feliz cumpleaños, boludo, te quiero! _ 1

It was the closest thing to a love confession Leo could offer Sergio. Kun had laughed from beside him at the breakfast table, turning to thank him with tears in his eyes (before commenting publicly:  _ Que mentiroso sos, amigo! Dale, muchas gracias, pa, te quiero _ 2 ).

Argentina's match against Colombia was a draw, 2-2. Villa had scored the first goal halfway through the first half, followed by Messi's magical left-foot right before half-time. Lautaro had headed the ball into the net six minutes into the second half, and the score remained the same for most of the match. That is, until Mateus Uribe was awarded a penalty at 77' that James Rodriguez turned into a tying goal.

While the team were slightly disappointed, they weren't in a bad mood at the end of the match. Colombia had actually played really well and deserved the draw. Leo, however, had always been a sore loser and scowled when he saw Kun exchanging jerseys with the cafeteros' captain James Rodriguez.

Over the course of the night, Leo resolved not to take his frustrations out on Sergio the way he had after the World Cup, knowing it had prompted Kun to keep his distance and give up on them. Again.

And they were so happy together at the moment, but Leo was still giving Kun the space he thought he wanted. Over the next few days, the Barcelona player easily cheered up with Kun at his side, though Sergio himself seemed to be easily upset. Maybe frustrated, Leo certainly knew the feeling. He hadn't even tried to kiss him once!

So it shouldn't have been a surprise to anybody that when Argentina won their next match versus Paraguay 3-2 with goals from Matías Suárez, Messi, and Agüero in that order, Kun pounced on Leo in their bedroom. They had  _ just _ entered their hotel room in Belo Horizonte when Sergio turned around and pushed him against the door. Messi had to suppress a gasp, given that Kun attacked his mouth at that moment.

The kiss was frantic at first, Kun nibbling on Leo's bottom lip gently before sucking on it to make him open up. Leo gasped as the action caused a jolt of pleasure to track its' way down to his dick, but he was distracted again by Kun's tongue running over his own. His hands were wandering Leo's abdomen, touch light and teasing as they traced patterns under his shirt.

Lionel felt overwhelmed for a moment, his senses and thoughts filled with  _ Kun _ . Then, he finally reacted, wrapping his arms around Sergio's neck and running his fingers into his hair, both fighting for control of the kiss. 

Kun pulled away suddenly, leaving Leo to take a slow, shuddering breath. The Bonaerense, however, was already busy kissing Leo's neck. His teeth grazed lightly before he felt Kun lick a stripe from his collarbone to his jaw, stopping only to suck on the pale skin. Leo couldn't stop the groan that left his mouth at the action.

Leo pulled at the soft fabric of Kun's t-shirt, trying to pull it off him without removing the younger from his neck, but it proved impossible. Laughing lightly under his breath, Sergio pulled back to throw the tee over his head. Leo pulled him to his body again.

But the kiss was different this time, slow and languid. Leo was sucking on Kun's bottom lip the way he liked, savoring the combination of mint toothpaste and something that was merely  _ Kun _ , achingly familiar. It was like coming home.

They pulled away and Sergio leaned his forehead against Leo's, both breathing heavily. He closed his suit-button eyes.

"God, I love you so much," he muttered in a rough voice. Leo couldn't stop the grin that lit up his face, heart pounding and soaring in joy at the same time.

" _ Yo tambien te amo, boludo _ 3 ," Leo whispered back. Kun opened his eyes and grinned before grabbing the hem of Leo's shirt and pulling it off him. The Rosarino allowed him to, closing his eyes and tilting his head back against the door as Kun began to lick and kiss his way down his chest, pausing to lick his nipple and blow lightly on it. At the same time, Sergio's hand fell to his dick and another groan was strangled out of Leo.

Leo opened his eyes when he felt Kun stop touching him only to look down at Sergio kneeling on the floor before him, fingers on the button of his jeans, tongue licking his lower abs, a smirk on his lips, eyes trained on his face.

Leo moaned.

 

**.**

 

Argentina won their match against Qatar with a score of 2-nil, making them the top of their group with their two wins and a draw. The scoresheet turned out a little surprising, though, as everyone expected Paraguay to take second place.

They  _ had _ won their first match against Qatar with a score of 2-1 but had consequently lost to Argentina. Colombia had won against Qatar, as well, with Radamel Falcao's goal in the 63rd minute. Argentina knocked Qatar off on the 23rd of June, but second place was still fair play for either Colombia or Paraguay. 

Paraguay would have won, as well, since the score at 80 minutes was 3-2. If it hadn't been for James Rodriguez's right foot at the last minute, that is. They went into overtime, but Paraguay couldn't come back in those six minutes.

Argentina led Group B with 7 points, followed by Colombia's 5 points (two draws and a win) and Paraguay's 4 points (win, loss, draw in that order).

That was the reason for their celebration on that night. It was the eve before Leo's birthday, as well, so it had been Kun's idea to sneak some bottles of champagne and whiskey into the hotel. They could handle one teensy hangover, after all. 

Leo and Kun had been in their room for a long while, so they had no idea what was going on when they made their way down to the lobby. Though the only seven left from the World Cup were the two boyfriends, Angel, Ota, Lo Celso, Acuña and Dybala, the night was reminiscent of the day they won against Ecuador and had their own little party to celebrate. It had that same melancholic scent to it as the night Sergio left him.

Lionel was overly aware of Kun at all times, where he was and who he was talking with, when the majority of the team entered the party venue. There was just a feeling in the air that forced him to keep his eyes on the Premier league player at all times. 

Kun was talking to Otamendi about where they would buy the liquor and how best to sneak them in or some such thing. Messi wasn't really involved, but he figured his boyfriend would fill him in soon enough. 

But when Kun said, "Leo, I'm going to go buy the liquor with Ota," his only response was a resounding  _ no _ . Sergio's answering expression was weird, a combination of surprise and amusement with a hint of something more serious.

"No, Kun, let somebody else go," Leo replied to the silent question.

"I'm not going far, Leo, I'll be right back," Kun stated, laughing a little, though his voice held no room for arguments. Messi watched him turn around, unable to resist the impulse to grab his hand and spin him around, hugging the younger Argentine tight. "Leo?"

When Leo pulled back, Sergio hesitated.

"Are you okay?"

Leo was reluctant to nod, reluctant to let him go, wanting to keep him by his side. But he nodded and smiled, hoping it looked genuine.

"Nothing, it's just… happy anniversary."

Kun grinned at Leo's words, lighting up at the mention of the day they had become officially boyfriends, before pulling him back into a hug and quickly pecking his lips. Lionel resisted the urge to look around to see if anybody had seen them, knowing the only people in the room were their friends, people who already knew, and he didn't want to ruin the moment.

"I'm pretty sure that's at midnight," Kun answered, continuing to grin at the Rosarino with his dimples. He had never looked so beautiful to Leo as he did that night, smiling bright and happy and  _ his _ . "I'm going for the supplies to celebrate you,  _ mi amor _ . I'll see you in a bit. Love you,  _ nene _ ."

Sergio Agüero let go of him, calling out "Ota!" and gesturing for his teammate to follow. Leo remained where he stood, feeling Angel come to stand beside him but his eyes followed Kun. Before walking out that door, Kun hesitated and turned back to find him watching.

He grinned, that  _ Leo smile _ that Lionel had adored since they were two teenagers figuring each other out but with the absolute certainty that they were meant to be together forever, be it just as friends or as more. It was meant to be.

 

**.**

 

"Give the birthday boy his present!" Dybala yelled, making Messi turn and look at him. Their celebration get-together had kind of gotten out of control, and they would surely be in trouble the next day. However, everyone was in too great a mood to care, having fun and feeling like they were floating on cloud nine, dancing and singing at the top of their lungs, drinks in hand, music loudly thumping throughout the room.

"What?" Leo said, looking around at his friends who were now hollering incomprehensibly as the music was lowered. The lights inside the room were mellowed, but someone dimmed them even more while Lautaro dragged a chair away from one of the tables to a mostly-empty area.

Angel placed his hands on Leo's shoulders and began to guide him toward the chair, though Leo was too busy looking around the chaos for Kun to notice where was being led. The Rosarino found his boyfriend at one side of the pandemonium, laughing at the way everyone was frantically getting things ready for his surprise. His teammates usually never gave him anything material because they knew he didn't really care for it, so this in itself was a surprise.

Kun met his gaze suddenly and his laughter died down. His smile dimmed before his tongue slid out of his mouth to lick his lips slowly, the predatory look in those big wide eyes doing things to Leo. The younger Argentine bit his lip before grinning, definitely making Leo feel like the prey.

Angel sat him on the chair, and Leo realized what was happening when Ota grabbed Kun's forearm and began to drag him toward Leo. The beat of a song he vaguely recognized began to play loudly and Kun chuckled louder, turning to give Paulo the most deadpan expression he could briefly manage.

 

_ Desde que amanecimos en esa cama, _

_ Siempre me llama pa' matar las ganas. _

 

Lionel would later find out the song was sung by Kevin Roldan, called PPP. Sergio was standing in front of him and he hesitated, before shrugging and knocking the rest of his drink back.

 

_ Que hace tiempo que con él ya no siente nada, _

_ Por eso me llama pa' matar las ganas. _

 

The song had a sensual rhythm to it, and it just got sexier with the progression of the lyrics. Leo, with an exasperated groan, realized what his friends were doing and covered his face to hide the blush beginning to make its' way up his neck. Kun laughed, as well as their teammates, and removed his hands. He began to move his hips to the beat slowly.

 

_ A ella le gusta porque estoy PPP, _

_ Siempre puesto pa' darle placer. _

_ Ella me pide que le dé y le dé _

_ Y yo le hago todo lo que la complace. _

 

It was obvious Leo would find himself mesmerized by Kun's movements, the slow rotation of his hips rivaling those of the entire Real Madrid FC when Rodriguez was still part of the squad. The rest of the team remained silent, watching the encounter with apt interest, and they seemed to melt away from the scene to Leo. Kun grinned down at him as he came closer without stopping the movement of his hips, mouthing along to the lyrics.

 

_ Que soy su nene, que soy su bebe. _

_ Se pone loquita cuando me ve en la TV, _

_ Ella me pide que le dé y que le dé _

_ Y yo le hago de too', de to'. _

 

Kun reached down to stroke Leo's cheekbone, his skin naturally hotter than Leo's, until his thumb caressed Messi's bottom lip. Sergio turned around still rolling his hips to the beat of the music, and Leo felt his mouth go dry. Kun's dancing was mild to the things they could do together at times but  _ knowing _ the things Kun was capable of was an exercise in torture in itself.

Kun reached down to the hem of his t-shirt to lift it up slowly, revealing the tanned skin of his cut abs, before he took it off completely, throwing it somewhere behind him. He was standing with one leg between Leo's open thighs as one hand grabbed Leo's and forced him to caress his abdomen. Messi found that he absolutely adored the way his pale fingers looked against Sergio's tanned skin.

Kun's hips never stopped moving when the turned around to give Leo his back. It would stand to reason, though, that a cumbia-lover like Kun would be able to move his hips like that. He was about to grind down on Leo's thigh, though not too close to his crotch when the song ended.

Someone— Marcos Acuña, Leo thought— turned the lights back up and Kun turned to face him with a grin, laughing lightly before leaning down to kiss the Barça player. Kun lingered, nibbling on his bottom lip gently, and it was  _ it _ . That was the moment Leo realized that was  _ it _ , the only thing he aspired to in life, to be as happy as he was in that moment.

Pulling away, Kun pressed their foreheads together and whispered, "Happy birthday."

"Happy anniversary."

They would celebrate both in their bedroom by themselves later, they both knew it.

 

**.**

 

The team made their way to São Paulo the following day, most of the players nursing a serious hangover. Getting yelled at by Scaloni didn't help their headaches and sour moods, but for the same reason, no one even bothered talking on their journey. Leo and Kun were part of the few who hadn't drunk too much and quickly got over the grueling symptoms.

Their next few days were spent training and relaxing in preparation for their match against Chile on the 28th of June. Brazil was going up against Ecuador the day before that, and whoever the winner of that match was would be facing the winner of the Bolivia versus Colombia game scheduled four hours before Argentina's. If Argentina won their match, they would have to defeat whoever came out victorious in the Uruguay versus Paraguay match taking place the day after theirs for semis.

And Leo was floating on cloud nine for those three days before their match. He and Kun hadn't been that happy together since they were in the initial honeymoon phase of their relationship. They spent their days together, during training, during meals, in their room, during team hang-outs, during their rare outings. They were always touching each other, sometimes even holding hands when they were only with their teammates, Kun's arm slung around his shoulders and Leo's hand clutching his waist in public. And it was all so  _ normal _ , somewhat domestic, and it only got Leo thinking.

What would Kun look like with the same silver band as Lionel around his finger?

He never voiced his thoughts aloud. It was too soon, and Leo was terrified he was being allowed too much happiness, that the other shoe had yet to drop.

They were both lying on their backs in Sergio's bed right before lights out on the night Brazil won their quarter-finals match 3-1 when Leo brought it up. There was a respectable distance between them, but their hands were intertwined in the middle.

"Have you ever thought about getting married?"

Kun turned to stare at him with raised eyebrows.

"Again? I don't think your jealousy would allow that again," he responded with a grin. Leo replied with a smile of his own, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly.

"That's not what I meant."

"What  _ did _ you mean?" Kun retorted, still staring at him curiously. His suit-button eyes were focused on his face, completely misunderstanding but patient enough to wait for an explanation. Sergio turned to stare at the ceiling again whilst Leo gathered his words.

"I didn't mean with someone else," Messi slowly stated, making Kun turn to stare at him immediately. "I mean, have you ever thought about having that?"

Kun stared dumbfounded for a few moments.

"I'm pretty sure I'd planned our entire future together since I was twenty," he whispered. They remained with their gazes on each other's eyes in the silence of the room, and Leo knew, suddenly, in the quiet of that hotel room that he wanted that, was willing to risk their reputations and the rest of their careers for that.

"Was it a part of your plans?" Leo murmured.

"When I was younger, I guess," Kun answered, looking at the white-painted ceiling again. Leo continued to watch his profile. "But I was naive back then. I know better, now."

"Would you like that?"

Kun turned toward him again. His expression wasn't as easy to read as it usually was, looking like he was figuring out whether Leo was joking or not more than anything. He let out a laugh as a huff of breath, turning away again.

"It's not that easy, Leo. You're married, first of all—"

"Not for much longer," Leo was quick to point out. Kun rolled his eyes and smiled, shaking his head lightly.

"Why are you asking, Leo?"

"I think I want that," Leo whispered in the silence of the room.

"We've been together for twelve years without a piece of paper binding us together, L—"

"It's more than that, and you know it."

Kun took a deep breath without removing his eyes from the dark lightbulb above them. What he said was true, the two of them had recognized their feelings for each other twelve years earlier and their moments spent apart, including that past year, were disregarded. They were meant to be, after all.

"Do you want that?"

Kun turned his head to stare at Leo before answering.

"I'll always want a future with you."

 

**.**

 

Playing against Chile was hard because although Lionel was very much aware of Arturo Vidal's prowess on the field, he'd never had to face that ruthless style of play. He was thanking God in that 83' mark that Arturo played on his team at La Liga, because the midfielder was making sure beating his team would not be easy. They were at a draw with goals from the Chileans Sanchez, Castillo and Vidal and one from Paredes and two from Messi on the Argentines' side.

It was during the third minute of overtime that Sergio Agüero appeared out of nowhere at about ten meters from the penalty area to receive a beautiful pass from Angel. Di María had taken a risk passing to the Man City striker who quickly found himself in between two defences and with Vidal heading his way.

But it all paid off when Kun swung his left foot in a high arc and the ball grazed Urra's gloves at the top right corner of the goal to hit the back of the net.

There was a moment where everything seemed to move in slow-motion before the roar of the crowd brought time back into perspective. Leo, who was running alongside Kun when he scored, sprinted toward his boyfriend, jumping on his back and kissing his cheek from behind theatrically. Sergio dropped him as the rest of the Argentine team reached them to dogpile on the small Bonaerense. 

Most of the players were shouting in excitement, nonsensical screams of joy, while others yelled, "You did it, Kun! You did it!"

When the game was resumed, Chile were unable to score again. Argentina won the quarter-finals against the Chileans with Kun's 41st international goal.

Leo was lying on his bed that night while Kun brushed his teeth, everything so quiet and  _ domestic _ . The team had opted not to celebrate that night, instead agreeing on the following day since the rest days began afterwards. They had all learned quite the lesson with the last celebration.

Sergio exited the bathroom only in black boxer briefs. He was yawning as he made his way toward the bed, quickly settling beside Lionel. Leo reached to place his hand on Sergio's forearm, fingers lightly tracing the Tengwar writing on his skin. Kun was scanning the television channels with the remote, likely looking for a movie to leave on mute all night.

"Will you marry me?"

For a moment, Leo wished he could take back his words because  _ this was not how he was planning on doing it _ . Kun remained unmoving, slowly lowering his outstretched arm and turning to look at him. His big suit-button eyes scanned his face in silence before he smiled. Leo smiled back.

"Yeah," he replied. "Of course I will."

Leo curled around Kun's slightly-larger frame, leaning up to kiss him briefly. When they pulled apart, Leo placed his head in the space between Kun's chin and collarbones, fitting there perfectly. As it was meant to be.

But Messi should have known better. He was drowning in happiness, filled with a newfound sense of hope after a string of failures with his club. Things were seeming better with his peaceful divorce in the near future, a series of uncontested victories under their belt, and Kun's  _ yes _ to his proposal. The other shoe had to drop.

They woke early the next morning.

"I want Starbucks," Kun announced. They had packed for their flight to Porto Alegre the previous day, but Kun had been the first to get ready, filled with some kind of energy he never showed in the mornings. Where Sergio was already showered and dressed, Leo still had yet to do so.

"Go to the one down the street while I take a shower," Leo answered, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly. "Get me a mocha Frappuccino."

Leo began to make his way toward the bathroom, but Kun stopped him in his tracks.

"Ah, ah," he scolded lightly, one hand on Leo's exposed collarbone. "What's the magic word?"

Leo grinned, "Messi?"

Kun rolled his eyes and began to make his way toward the bedroom door, muttering under his breath the whole time, "I don't know why I even put up with you. _Ay si, 'te amo, boludo.'_ _Ni vos te la crees_.4"

Leo burst out laughing, turning to watch his lover.

"Please!" he exclaimed. "Get me a mocha Frappuccino,  _ please _ ."

Kun stopped at the door, holding it open as he leant on the doorway. He smiled, that mischievous grin filled with a sincere happiness only the people who were lucky enough to know him witnessed, the happiness of a person so kind and  _ genuine _ , it almost hurt. His suit-button eyes were sparkling, and Leo could swear he had never loved him more than in that one moment.

"Kay. Be right back. Love you,  _ nene _ ."

How was Leo supposed to know that that would be the last time Kun smiled at him like that?

 

**.**

**(it's been a long year since we last spoke, how's your halo?)**

**.**

 

Messi tried to visit Kun's grave as often as possible. He visited every time he was in Argentina, even if he had to take long trips from Rosario to stand ten minutes before his lover's headstone in Buenos Aires's  _ Cementerio de la Chacarita _ .

 

**EL KUN**

**Sergio Leonel Agüero**

**_"If I never knew you, if I never loved you,_ **

**_I still would've missed your smile."_ **

**Beloved father, son, brother, and friend.**

**2/June/1988 — 29/June/2019**

 

After the burial, it took Lionel a year to whip up the courage to go back to the cemetery. He'd been overwhelmed with grief and guilt and anger. He was, irrationally, furious at Sergio for allowing things to happen the way they did, but his guilt was a reminder that it was his fault as well. It took Leo a long time to come to terms with the way life turned out for them. 

Once Leo had the guts to visit Kun's grave on the first anniversary of his death, he found it surrounded by flowers, fresh, as though someone always made sure Sergio wasn't forgotten despite the time that had passed. There were letters and notes from fans scattered nearby by the wind. It brought Leo to his knees, sobbing into his hands.

The pain never went away. It was just something he had gotten used to.

After all, he had helped with the epitaph and was the one who found the phrase that would come to summarize his relationship with Sergio.

After the car accident, the funeral, the burial, in the aftermath of his broken heart lying in pieces at the bottom of a silver casket, Lionel wept for weeks. They were sudden bouts of tears between unending silences, broken by smiles because something reminded him of Kun and caused him to miss him  _ so fiercely _ , enough to sob uncontrollably.

Thiago and Mateo had been scared, Ciro too small to understand that his father had retreated into himself, had turned them away for the moment. But they both had to be told because Kun was such a constant fixture in their lives. He was, to them, as important as Matias or Rodrigo, calling much more often than the Messi brothers— at least twice a week— to see them on video chat or hear their little voices. 

Although both Thiago and Mateo adored  _ el Tio Kun _ , they were too small to understand what it really meant, that they were really never going to see him again. Thiago had been confused and sad when he'd been told, asking  _ why doesn't Tio Kun want to see us anymore? _ , and Mateo had thrown a tantrum, cried his little heart out because  _ Tio Kun loves us, he wouldn't do that to us, he'll come see us soon, watch _ .

Anto had cried nonstop for a whole night, sobbing into her pillow when the kids were finally put to sleep, until she fell into a restless slumber as well. She cried again at the funeral and at the burial, standing beside Leo and trying not to feel hurt by the distance between them.

Leo loved Kun in a different way, after all.

She cried again two weeks later, when Leo briefly emerged from his self-isolation, freshly-showered, to find Mateo at his feet. Mati's big, brown Messi eyes were sparkling with tears and his bottom lip puckered in a pout as he tilted his head back to look at his father.

"Papi," he said, high voice watery and trembling, " _ ¿por que el Tio Kun no ha venido a vernos? _ "

Why hasn't Uncle Kun come to see us?

Messi thought his heart had been shattered to dust by then, but he found out that no, he had some pieces left intact because they cracked at Mateo's words. Lionel looked up at Antonella, who was standing nearby at the kitchen counter with Ciro in arms, watching in silence. Her eyes filled with tears, and she bowed her head to hide the drops sliding down her cheeks from Thiago.

Mateo began to cry, little sobs as though he was trying to control himself, though it still prompted Ciro to start whimpering. Leo felt the burn at the bridge of his nose, the lump in his throat, and bent down to pick his son up with tears tracking their way into his beard.

"Mateo," he murmured, hugging the boy, "Tio Kun can't come anymore."

Mateo let a little wail out at his words, throwing his chubby arms around his father's neck in despair and hiding his face in his neck. Leo heard his eldest son sniffle and turned to look at the boy sitting on the counter stool.

"Why doesn't Tio Kun want to see us anymore?" Thiago asked, his bottom lip trembling. "Is that why you cry? Because Tio Kun doesn't love us anymore?"

A sob was wracked out of Leo's chest at Thiago's words. Anto rounded the counter to hug her eldest to her side, wiping the tears on her cheeks carelessly.

"No, baby," she was saying, "Tio Kun loves us all very much."

Messi made his way toward the rest of his family, wrapping an arm around Antonella's waist and pulling her closer with Thiago between them. He kissed her forehead before hugging Thiago.

"No, Thiago. Kun loved us all so much, you could never know," he stated, more and more tears overflowing his eyes. "Kun has gone away, far, far away. He's gone to Heaven, baby, and he can't come back."

The Messi family cried for Sergio Agüero together that day, an agonizing step closer to accepting his fate.

 

**.**

 

The Copa America semifinals were rescheduled for five days later, giving the Argentinian team time to fly back to Sergio's hometown for his funeral and burial.

Argentina's match against Uruguay was  _ hard _ , so hard Leo wanted to just quit, hang his head and rip the captain armband off and walk away. But he couldn't abandon his team like that, who were also grieving at his side, who had also lost a teammate and a friend.

All members of the squad wore their jerseys proudly, each with their given number but with the name "Kun Agüero" on the back. A white band around each of their right wrists read "¡Vamos, Kun Agüero!" and their cleats boldly displayed the number 7. 

Luis Suarez hugged Leo instead of shaking his hand, whispering in his ear "I'm so, so sorry."

Messi swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, ducking his head and continuing to lead his teammates down the line of players.

When the announcer's voice rang through the stadium in Spanish, Messi had to fight back the urge to vomit. He had to screw his eyes shut as a wave of nausea passed over him, a crushing weight on his chest, and he briefly wondered if he would collapse.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we ask that you rise as we recognize a moment of silence.  Last week, the football world and the Argentine nation, lost a dear friend to our organization in Sergio 'El Kun' Agüero. The Argentine was killed in a car crash in São Paulo the day after his team's victory in the quarter-finals. He debuted at just fifteen years old in his hometown's club of Independiente and was a part of the national teams since he was sixteen. Now, at 31 years old, he was a part of the Premier League in Europe as Manchester City's all-time highest goalscorer holding the record at 230 goals. He was supposed to be playing here today. 

In honor of El Kun‘s memory, we ask that you join us in recognizing a moment of silence. This period of silence will begin and end at the referee's whistle.”

Silence reigned in the stadium as Lionel's team fell to one knee and bowed their heads. Leo willed himself not to cry before he heard a sniffle from what sounded like Ota. Though his eyes were closed, teardrops landed on the grass beneath his white "Kun Agüero" boots.

“Thank you, and now, ladies and gentlemen, please remain standing for the playing of our National Anthem.  _ Hasta el cielo _ 5 , Kun."

Argentina won, a grueling exchange of 115 minutes that ended in a score of 2-1, thanks to Lautaro y Dybala's shots against Luis's lone goal. Both Argentines had dedicated their goal to Kun, Lau kneeling in a quick prayer and kissing his hands before pointing at the sky much like Messi usually did. Paulo had merely blessed himself and stood silently at the sidelines, face turned toward the sky and eyes closed, muttering, " _ Para ti _ ,  _ pa _ . 6 "

Despite their win, the team didn't celebrate, merely greeted the opposition and trooped back to their locker room. It was  _ hard _ for every single one of them, even for Scaloni, because his absence was grating. It was glaringly obvious in the absence of his loud voice cracking jokes, in the absence of his giddy laughter high on another win, in the absence of his bright, bright smile.

 

**.**

 

Messi saw the first Manchester City match after the Copa America live. The first game after the death of their record-breaking goalscorer.

It was just as heartbreaking watching Ota go through that moment of silence again, even worse knowing Leo would be subjected to it in his following club match. All of the clubs in the Primera División, La Liga and especially the Premier League were asked to honor Sergio Agüero with a minute of silence in their first match after his death. All of the leagues el Kun had honored with his presence.

The team marched out wearing Kun's #10 jersey, every single one of them. 

Leo could see the pain on the Cityzens' faces. Ota refused to raise his head, Kompany could be seen discreetly wiping a teardrop from his cheekbone, De Bruyne was murmuring a prayer under his breath, and both David Silva's and Walker's shoulders shook slightly. He knew how overwhelming that first tribute was, and even more so for them, who spent time with Kun daily, to hear their fans honor their teammate's memory as such.

In the technical area, all seven subs and Pep Guardiola bowed their heads and refused to look up. Mahrez and Danilo both placed their hands on Bernardo's shoulders, who was between them and seemed to react the worst to the tribute. Ian Poveda was praying. Stones and Foden had their arms around each other, much the same way Ederson Moraes comforted Pep.

By the end of the minute, Zinchenko and Fernandinho were wiping their hidden faces. Gabriel Jesus's stoic expression was crumbling and Sané was openly crying. The referee blew the whistle.

Claudio Bravo knelt on the grass for a brief moment, touching the ground and blessing himself before looking toward the sky. Raz Sterling walked toward Sané and hugged him, talking in his ear quietly, before he pulled back. He shook Leroy lightly before kissing his cheek and jogging off. Tears were glistening in his eyes.

City won against West Ham 3-0. Sterling scored the first goal in the 23rd minute, kissing his hand and pointing at the sky. Sané followed during the 41st minute, dropping to his knees and lifting his jersey to kiss it. Bernardo Silva was subbed in after half-time for Leroy, and he scored the last goal 76 minutes in. Silva ran to the sidelines, lifting his jersey to reveal a white t-shirt with a picture of Kun celebrating the history-making goal he scored against QPR in 2018 with the words "¡Vamos, Kun Agüero!"

The Man City fans seemed to erupt into song in unison at the sight of the t-shirt.

 

_ This is how it feels to be City, _

_ This is how it feels to be small. _

 

Bernardo seemed to recognize the chant immediately, as he dropped to his knees and stared around the stadium in awe. A teardrop began to fall down his cheek.

 

_ You signed Phil Jones, _

_ We signed Kun Agüero, _

_ Kun Agüero, Kun Agüero! _

 

**.**

 

Leo's next match with Barcelona was a month after his birthday, a month after his death. They were going up against Chelsea in the Saitama Stadium in Japan. Leo flew Anto and the kids over so they could see the game in person.

He had to go through another tribute, endure another heartwrenching moment of silence for the death of his best friend, of the love of his life. And though the pain was there, Leo couldn't deny that vicious burn of anger because  _ things were supposed to be so different _ .

At the end of the match, Barcelona had won with four goals against Chelsea's two, Barça's last goal being scored by Leo. Messi performed the blessing of the Holy Trinity on himself as he ran, dropping to his knees and putting his palms together in prayer. He kissed his hands and raised them toward the sky, thanking God and dedicating his 52nd hat-trick to Kun.

His two older boys ran out onto the field as he was celebrating with his team. Tears came to Messi's eyes when he saw them. Mati was wearing Kun's #10 Manchester City jersey, meanwhile Thiago wore his #7 Argentina NT jersey. When the two boys were ushered back to their mother in an Independiente #10, Leo saw Ciro in a red-and-white #10 Atlético de Madrid jersey.

His family wore Sergio Agüero's four jerseys to honor him.

Leo broke down in the shower, tears mixing with the water falling over him as his shoulders shook. There was a gnawing ache in the place where his heart once rested, and he thought back to the night on the Montevideo hotel balcony.

 

**.**

 

Colombia won third place against Uruguay 3-2 on the 11th of July in the Arena Corinthians, the last stadium Kun Agüero ever played in. There was another moment of silence, just like there was in every match played in the Copa America after Sergio´s death.

Argentina faced off against Brazil for the final on the 12th of July in Rio de Janeiro's Maracaña Stadium. It was probably the longest 110 minutes of Messi's life.

Argentina lost with no goals against Gabriel Jesus's one shot during the 88th minute. 

Leo sat down on the grass in astonishment. He lay back in the wake of another failure, looking up at the clear blue sky, the color of Kun's jersey, the sun shining as bright as the last smile he directed at the Rosarino. He hadn't felt the pain of a loss this profoundly since the 2014 WC.

Lionel was torn from his thoughts when a shadow fell over his tearstained face. It was Gabriel Jesus, who knelt next to Leo's form on the grass.

"I'm sorry," Gabriel murmured in clear English, his head bowed in shame. " _ Perdoname _ . I know this match was for him, but I couldn't not take the opportunity. Please, forgive me."

Leo turned to stare back up at the sky, fighting to hold in the sob threatening to wrack his small frame. It was so easy for Gabriel now, he felt the loss of a dear teammate, but Leo was grieving a lover, a best friend, the one person he'd loved before he was  _ Lionel Messi _ , before he was D10S, before he became the football world's god. He didn't know the pain Leo felt at failing the love of his life.

But it wasn't his fault. Leo knew that.

He took a deep breath and sat up, hesitating before he stood. Leo offered Gabriel his hand, who took it with a pleading expression.

"There's nothing to forgive," Leo said once both were standing. "You played a great game."

Lionel Messi walked off with the weight of an entire nation on his shoulders.

 

**.**

**v**

**.**

 

Leo had just slipped on a t-shirt when there was frantic knocking at his hotel room door. Frowning, he turned to open the door but it burst open before he could even get close.

Nicolas Otamendi burst into the room, looking more panicked than Messi had ever seen him before.

"Leo!" he yelled, looking on the verge of tears. "Leo! There was a car accident outside and—"

Ota choked on a sob, though Leo only continued to stare in confusion because  _ what did a car accident have to do with him _ ?

"Kun was walking on the sidewalk and—"

Leo never heard what Ota was going to say, because the pieces fell into place at his first words. He took off running, pushing Ota out of his way and sprinting toward the elevator. Lionel had never felt such desperation as he did in those moments, waiting for the elevator to reach his floor and contemplating sprinting down the stairs.

_ Kun was walking on the sidewalk and—  _

When Messi burst from the elevator into the lobby, he could see clearly through the glass the crowd of people gathered near one of the last windows of the hotel. In the direction of the Starbucks down the street.

_ Kun was walking on the sidewalk— _

Leo sprinted toward the glass doors, pushing them open roughly. He couldn't think straight and he was pretty sure the lack of breath wasn't from his running.

He headed toward the crowd of people, a scene with a terrifying conclusion focusing and unfocusing in his blurring vision. There were two wrecked cars near the corner of the street, a red Nissan Altima and a créme-colored Cadillac Escalade. The Altima was on its' side, and the whole front of the Escalade was irreparable, its' side scraped against the building. 

_ Kun was walking on the— _

Leo slowed at the sight, looking at the crowd of people gathered in a half-circle in the space between the back of the Escalade and the concrete wall. There was someone shouting for a  _ médico _ and a woman's voice yelling " _ Chame uma ambulância _ 7 !"

_ Kun was walking on— _

Someone yelled back, " _ Nós já fizemos _ 8 !"

_ Kun was walking— _

Somebody in the back of the group of people noticed his approaching presence. A younger woman nudged the man next to her, who turned to look at him, and together they moved back. Both of them alerted the people in front of them, and the entire crowd quieted down. They began to make a path for him to the center of their semicircle.

_ Kun was— _

There was another commotion behind him, though the crowd in front of him was silent now. He could vaguely recognize Otamendi's voice yelling his name, as well as Angel's voice getting closer, the sound of running feet telling him they were coming after him.

_ Kun— _

Sergio Agüero lay on the concrete with a dark-skinned Brazilian woman at his side, her green eyes watching him wearily from her place kneeling in the blood. His left arm was bent at an odd angle and there was pool of blood surrounding his entire upper body, his platinum hair soaked in red.

There was the sound of a man screaming, and Leo subconsciously wondered which one of his teammates had managed to see what he was seeing.

Kun's eyes were closed, and his chest wasn't moving.

Lionel dropped to his knees, realizing that the heartwrenching howl of pain was coming from him.

_ K— _

 

**.**

 

It was a few weeks later when Barça met Juventus on the pitch for the UCL group stages. Messi went head-to-head with Cristiano Ronaldo and James Rodriguez, who had moved to Juventus during the 2019 transfer season. His heart still ached and he bitterly watched the two lovers walk off the field together at half-time.

Barça won with a satisfying 4-2.

Leo was surprised when Cristiano approached him after the game. There was no rivalry between them, they actually got along surprisingly well, but this was still uncommon, especially after a resounding loss for his team like that.

"Hello, Lionel."

"Leo," Messi corrected automatically, looking up at the taller man wearily. He looked tired, and his age and years of football career were catching up with him.

"Leo," the Portuguese conceded with a cautious smile. "I just wanted to extend my condolences."

Leo's heart squeezed in pain inside his chest, his mind flashing back to all the times Kun lay on the bed beside him and teased him about his supposed rivalry with the ex-Madridista while he traced imaginary figures on his pale skin.

"I am sincerely sorry for what happened to Sergio," Cristiano continued, looking off across the pitch to where James was in Dybala's arms, laughing despite their loss. His eyes went impossibly soft as he stared at the Colombian, the adoration in them making Leo a little sick. "I can't imagine my life without him. I don't know how you're doing it, but I wish you the best in life. You deserve it, Leo."

Cristiano turned to look at him, but Leo remained silent, staring at some point beyond Ronaldo's chest.

He jogged off, letting the Argentine make his way toward the tunnel.

Leo had already showered and was arranging everything in his pack when Geri came up to him in the locker room.

"Somebody wants to see you outside," he informed Leo, his expression easy on the surface but with something cautious beneath.

"Who?" Leo questioned, frowning. Geri shrugged.

"James Rodriguez."

With furrowed brows, Leo slowly made his way toward the door, wondering what Cristiano's boyfriend could possibly want with him. He was leaning against the wall beside the door when Leo made his way out into the hallway.

The Colombian's hair was still wet, his fringe hanging on his forehead, and he stood with his arms crossed. His usually-smiling babyface was somber for once, a rare occurrence— Kun's voice echoed in his mind, saying  _ that man has a smile gifted by the god of the sun Apollo himself _ — and he was nibbling on his full bottom lip as though unsure of himself.

"Uhmm, hi," he murmured, trying for a smile. Leo stared blankly, making his smile falter. "I— I know we've never r-really talked, but—"

James took a deep breath, as though steeling himself or gathering his courage.

"I know you're probably tired of hearing about it," he continued, watching Leo's facial expressions warily. Leo feared he knew what came next. "I'm s-sorry abo— about Kun. He—"

Messi couldn't keep the surprise that he felt from his face quickly enough at hearing a virtual stranger refer to his best friend with such familiarity, because James stopped and smiled sadly.

"Kun was my friend," he said, looking up at the white ceiling of the hallway forlornly. "We talked about you a lot, you know."

A hand was squeezing Leo's heart tightly.

_ Kun was walking on the sidewalk and— _

"He was so in love with you," James stated, looking at the smaller Argentine with a gentle smile. "But you know that already. You're the only person he ever fell in love with."

Leo's eyes were glistening with tears. James's smile faltered.

"I just wanted to tell you I'm so, so sorry."

James briefly placed a hand on Leo's shoulder, causing him to nod weakly but he had no idea what kind of facial expression he was making. James's expression was so tender, Leo was reminded of Cristiano's face earlier on the pitch.

James let him go and walked off down the hallway, back to his locker room. Once he was gone, Lionel slid down the wall to sit on the floor with his face in his hands.

His hands muffled his sobs.

 

**.**

 

Leo didn't remember much from the funeral or the burial. He was present only in body.

He remembered his godson Benja crying himself to sleep in his arms, clinging to his neck like the lost child he was, looking the very spitting image of his father with his own platinum-dyed hair. It hurt Leo's heart with every stray beat.

He remembered Giannina crying next to him at the gravesite, though his eyes never strayed from the silver casket in the ground beneath him. Kun's direct family— his parents, his brothers, his sister, his son— each took a fistful of dirt from the pile beside the open grave. Benja grabbed his hand when Leo remained where he stood, leading him to the pile and silently urging him to take his own fistful of dirt.

_ Echenme un puño de tierra _ . 9

Tears streamed down the entire family's faces, Benja still clinging to his side in his attempt to find the closest comfort of his father he could.

Anto and his sons stayed in Rosario while Messi took his flight back to Brazil for the Copa America final. Leo said goodbye to Mascherano in Kun's Buenos Aires home before his flight, hugging him tightly.

"Nothing," Leo whispered into Mascherano's ear, a couple of tears streaming down his face, "has ever hurt as much as this."

"I keep remembering the World Cup," Masche whispered back, his own tears wetting Leo's t-shirt. "He was inconsolable, saying he felt like he'd lost you when he broke up with you—"

"What?"

Leo pulled back at Javier's words, his confusion apparent in the downward tilt of his brows. Javi frowned as well, puzzled.

"You never knew about that?" he asked, and Lionel shook his head vigorously. Masche looked at him sadly, almost melancholic.

"You told him you wanted to be alone," Javi reminded him gently. Leo nodded at that. "So he went to Toto's room— you know how close they were that year— and he just lost it. He burst into tears, and Toto tried to console him but ended up asking for my help."

Leo's hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles white and nails digging into the skin of his palms. His teeth were gritted as he remembered with startling clarity all the things he had shouted at Kun, they way he'd undermined Sergio's importance in the NT, the way he'd turned his back on the comforting presence Kun tried to be for him.

"He wouldn't stop crying, said you didn't love him the same way and he'd fucked things up trying to look for something more from you," Mascherano continued. "That he should've been happy with what he had."

Masche paused, watching Leo wearily, noticing all the signs of a distressed Lionel Messi. But he plowed on.

"I told him he deserved more."

Leo seemed to deflate at the words, his head bowed in shame.

"I didn't mean he deserved  _ better _ ," Javi quickly corrected. "I just thought he  _ did _ deserve more. He'd been faithful to you for so many years, and if he wanted a little more from you, I think he deserved it… but he insisted he'd lost you.

"And I told him he would never lose you. Not as long as both of you were alive, and even then."

Masche seemed to lose all his strength at his confession, taking a seat on the sofa that was behind him. Leo wasn't good at giving— or receiving— comfort, so he didn't move for a few moments.

Finally, Leo placed one hand on Mascherano's shoulder and said, "It was the truth, though."

He walked out of the house, the ghost of Sergio Agüero following in his wake.

 

**.**

 

He refused to believe he'd lost the love of his life over a fucking cup of  _ coffee _ .

If only Sergio hadn't had that craving for fucking  _ Starbucks.  _ If only Leo had asked him to wait while he took a shower. If only Leo had gone with him. If only those fucking  _ kids _ celebrating Brazil's win high on drugs and drunk on whiskey hadn't been driving that Altima.

If only Leo had listened to Kun that night, that fucking dreaded 10th of October. If only he had fought for their relationship a little harder. If only Leo had had the guts to be with Kun before then.

It wasn't supposed to be this way!

They were supposed to win the Copa America 2019 together, they were supposed to celebrate with matching engagement rings, they were supposed to let their families know about their impending marriage as soon as the divorce came through.

They were supposed to play football together, be it with Man City or Barcelona, until Leo retired and they moved back to Argentina so Kun could retire in Independiente. They were supposed to have their sons visit on holidays from busy lives and visit Antonella when things got too boring for them. Leo was supposed to become a coach for Newell's, and Kun would finally be a footballer's wife.

If only, if only, if only,  _ if only _ …

They were  _ meant to be _ .

 

**.**

**(what you couldn't do, i will. i forgive you)**

**.**

 

The day Argentina won their last game for the 2022 WC group stage, making them top of their group with their three uncontested victories, Lionel knew Kun hadn't given up on them.

Because the sky was the color of Kun's Man City jersey with not a cloud in sight, and he knew the bright rays of the sun were Kun's smile shining down on them.

 

**.**

 

Leo kneeled before his ex-boyfriend's grave, dried out and tired after such a long while crying.

Messi hadn't been able to step foot into the graveyard after the burial. It had taken a lot of talking from other people to get him to open up after quickly spiraling into depression with his boyfriend's death after a terrible end to his club season and the loss of the Copa America final. As expected, he'd blamed himself.

He'd always wondered whether Sergio had been able to forgive him, after everything that'd happened those last two years they were together and the way Leo couldn't save him. That doubt had followed Messi around like a demon over his shoulder for so long, he'd convinced himself it wasn't possible. There was no way Leo's little actions had redeemed him in Kun's eyes.

Until James Rodriguez and Toto Salvio sat him down shortly after New Year's and let him know everything Kun had ever said about him that they could remember, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

He hadn't miraculously forgiven himself after that, but it became easier to talk about Sergio after that. Leo talked about Kun with Kun's son, with his mother, with his brothers, with Anto, with Geri, with Neymar.

And it gradually came to him.

They had been happy. Whether they had been their last days together or not, that last month together had been spent floating on cloud nine. They'd been giddy with their reconciliation, high off victory after victory, flying with their engagement.

Leo was bearing the pain of Kun's departure by himself, and only making it worse by torturing himself.

The twelve NT players that had been partners-in-crime during the 2014 WC had gotten together on Kun's birthday, the 2nd of June, just to honor his memory. They spent the day drinking lightly, casually talking about all the pranks in prank wars they'd been in, all the trouble Kun had dragged them into at one point or another, all the dumb jokes they could remember. They spent the day recalling old memories of Kun, memories that caused them to laugh and made his death a little bearable.

That was when Leo forgave himself, and forgave Kun in case he hadn't been able to.

A week later, Messi had Sergio Agüero's eye tattooed on the inner part of his left arm, the words " _ All of my regrets have gone away, there's nothing more than you _ ." scrawled underneath in cursive.

It was on the anniversary of his death when Leo felt he was ready to face his ex-lover's headstone, his sins and failures staring him in the face. He just didn't expect to remember everything about Kun with so much detail, as though he still lay beside him every break they could get. He could see in his mind's eye the exact shade of brown his eyes had been, the size and shape of them, the way they sparkled and the crow's feet at their edges. 

Leo slowly stood from grass, staring down at the words engraved on the tombstone for a long moment.

He turned and began to walk away, the weight on his shoulders getting lighter the further he got, his footsteps easier to take, as though the ghost of Sergio Agüero that existed only to Lionel stayed behind with the unbearability of his pain and regrets.

Leo had known deep down that it was impossible, it was a life not meant for them.

They were destined for greatness, worldwide superstars in a sport that idolized them and judged them just as profoundly. But they had still found the most important thing they had in each other, despite all odds, they'd been happy and they'd been in love.

Sighing, Messi looked up at the clear, blue sky with renewed hope, noticing it was the exact same shade of his future Manchester City jersey.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Years playing FIFA with you and you still can't win. Happy birthday, boludo, love you!  
> 2\. You're such a liar, friend! Thanks a lot, love you!  
> 3\. I love you, too, boludo.  
> 4\. Yeah, right. "I love you, boludo." You don't even believe that.  
> 5\. To high heaven.  
> 6\. For you, man.  
> 7\. Call an ambulance!  
> 8\. We already did!  
> 9\. Throw a fistful of dirt. (comes from a Mexican song) 
> 
> Quote on Kun's tombstone inspired by Jason Walker's Shouldn't Be a Good in Goodbye.
> 
> Quote tattooed on Messi is from Crywolf's Anachronism.
> 
> I think that's all, any feedback would be appreciated!


End file.
